


You keep alive a moment at a time

by something_from_nothing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_from_nothing/pseuds/something_from_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is in a mental hospital, where he meets Cas.<br/>TW for self harm and mental illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sincerest apologies for not updating in a while, I've been very busy with finals--but I promise the third chapter will be up within the next week!!! Thank you for your patience!

Dean sat down on the cool metal chair and rested his hands on the table before him. He looked down at his hospital bracelet and picked at it incessantly until the door creaked open. Sam, inched inside with a smile, carrying two cups of coffee. 

“Oh thank God, the coffee they serve here is crap, always cold so nobody can hurt themselves with it,” Dean said taking the cup from Sam’s hands.

“Yeah you’re lucky we have the nice orderly watching today. Just be quick with it so we don’t get in trouble.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a sip of the hazelnut coffee. He held it in his mouth for a while, savoring the creamy flavor before letting it cascade down his throat. He opened his eyes and smiled, “How are ya Sammy?”

“I’m pretty good, a bit bored without you though. Baby misses you too.” Sam laughed.

“You better be keeping her in top shape, I don’t want to come home to mud and scratches” He warned.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping her all clean and polished, she looks just like she did when we dropped you off here.”

Dean tilted his head and looked down at the pool of coffee in his cup, he rubbed his thumb across a small drip that had managed an escape.

“How about you, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Hmm? Oh me..I’m fine.” Dean said without looking up, shaking his head slightly.

“Cut the crap Dean, really. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve been here for two months now. Is therapy helping you at all? The medication? Are you still seeing things? Be honest--” 

“Jesus Sam will you relax? For just a minute I’d like to think about other things. I want to hear about how things are going with school, I want to hear about the girls you’ve been dating, I want to hear about Charlie. For once I don’t want to talk about me or any of the things in my head. Do you think we can manage that?” Dean sat back in his chair with his eyebrows raised. 

A look of shame traveled across Sam’s face, “I’m sorry Dean...I just want to know if you’re getting any better...I miss you and I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“Well I’m not okay, Sammy. I’m in the looney bin and I’m being treated like a child, alright? I get it, the things in my head aren’t real and I need some time to learn how to differentiate between reality and fantasy, but I don’t need people giving me these looks like I’m some wack job that just killed their puppy.”

“...School is good,” Sam said quietly, “If I am able to squeeze in a few more credits next semester then I should be able to graduate on time. And I haven’t really been seeing anyone. It isn’t really the time for it, I have a lot to focus on I guess.” Sam looked up from his coffee and saw a half smile on Dean’s face.

The rest of the visit went relatively smoothly, Dean talked about how bad the cafeteria food was and how all of the nurses were really nice to him because he would sweet talk them all the time and ask about their families, and Sam talked about how all of his professors were really interesting and how a lot of them even made him consider a career in teaching.

The orderly that stood outside the door poked his head in, “Sorry Winchesters, time is up, visiting hours are over.” Sam and Dean stood up and hugged briefly, before Sam walked into the hallway. 

Just as Dean walked back into the rec room he saw Sam passing the windows walking toward the parking lot. He tapped on the glass, and waved, “Later bitch!” He said joyfully. Sam smiled and waved back, “Bye jerk!”

As Sam left Dean’s view, he slowly lowered his hand and the smile fell off of his face. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the glass. He took a deep breath in and when he let it out the window fogged over. He opened his eyes and saw the condensation slowly disappear. Once again he breathed on the window and with his finger quickly drew a circle with a star inside. He watched as the pentagram faded from the window before turning on his heels and quickly walking back to his room.

Dean quietly closed the door behind him and pressed his hands against his face before collapsing onto his thin mattress. He rolled over onto his back and thought about all of the things he didn’t tell Sam, for instance that he stopped taking his medication, they were pumping him full of all kinds of different things, sleeping meds, anti-anxieties, antidepressants, drugs to help with his withdrawal from alcohol, you name it. They switched it up every now and then because some would make him nauseous, some would give him night terrors, some just made him sleep all the time. So he stopped taking them, he put them inside of a hole that he cut into his mattress with paperclips. Sometimes he would give them to other patients. 

There wasn’t much in Dean’s room, save for his bed, a desk, and a chair. He was fortunate not to have a roommate, he could engage in all of the strange behaviors without anyone to rat on him. He spent a lot of his time drawing, if he asked the nurses nicely they would let him take a piece of paper or two and either charcoal or pastels back to his room, as long as they felt it was safe. He’d never been much for art before but part of his therapy was art related--he was often asked to draw the things he had been seeing, typically people with black eyes, sharp teeth, or claws, zombie like creatures, wolves, sometimes he would just color an entire page black. And sometimes he would draw himself, covered in blood. This was the part that was most concerning to his doctors, they could try anything to get the other monsters out of his head but once he started seeing himself that way he would require more rigorous treatments.

He had good days and bad days. Some days he would sit in the rec room and watch television with the other patients and orderlies, talk about cars and music with whoever was interested. The bad days, however, were becoming pretty frequent, he would spend all day in bed and when he was forced to get up to eat something he would usually throw a fit in the dining hall and start fights. Those nights he typically didn’t end up back in his room, he would be sedated and sent to a solitary confinement esque room. He would lose his privileges for that week, he wasn’t allowed outside with the other patients and he wasn’t allowed to walk around unattended. 

He didn’t want to tell Sam about these things, although he would definitely find out at some point. He’d probably get a letter in the mail or get a phone call talking about how Dean was some kind of bad seed. He was trying, but some days were better than others.

That night Dean sat in the dark waiting to fall asleep. One hand rested between the back of his head and the pillow while the other one sat atop his chest. The moment he closed his eyes he started to see things. It was always the same, the black eyed people would grab him, tie his hands above his head and begin to cut him, everywhere. Cuts on his chest, arms, face, and legs. Sometimes it was more gruesome, and sometimes they did nothing at all, they just watched him.

When Dean opened his eyes he was no longer in bed, he was sitting in the corner of his room sweating, covered in blood, with a small piece of sharp metal in his hand and he was holding it to his arm. He threw it to the floor and jumped up in a panic. Tears began to stream down his face as he tried to piece things together. He began to hyperventilate and smack his clenched fists against his forehead. He knew he was getting loud but he couldn’t control himself. He gathered blood on his index and middle finger and began to scribble on the walls with it. Sigils with odd patterns inside and outside of them. Within minutes the walls were covered in them. Outside his door he heard someone gently knocking.

“Hey Dean-o, you alright in there buddy?” one of the orderlies called.

Dean didn’t respond, he just quickly grabbed his chair and jammed it beneath the door handle and went back to his business. Of course this caused the orderly to panic and he began shouting to Dean as well as other orderlies, but Dean was drowning out all of the noises. His head was throbbing and he was becoming lightheaded from the blood loss. 

He dropped to the floor and began to draw one last sigil, a large circle with a star on the inside and strange markings in all the empty spaces. The shouting outside continued as Dean stood up and pressed his back against the wall.

The door shot open and three orderlies stood in the doorway. Their eyes were wide and mouths agape, they looked around at the blood covered walls.

“Jesus Christ Dean...what have you done to yourself…” Dean put his hands out in front of him in an attempt to block the trespassers as well as the light that was shining through, and cried like a small child. The men entered slowly and reached out, talking to him calmly and reassuringly. The biggest one, Bobby, became a good friend of Dean’s in the time he had been there, he felt how weak Dean was beneath his touch didn’t bother forcing him to walk. He lifted Dean up and carried him out of the room. Dean wrapped his arms around Bobby’s shoulders and pressed his tear and blood covered face into his neck, still bellowing uncontrollably.

“Get someone to clean up in there, would you?” Bobby said to the other orderlies. 

He carried Dean’s limp body to the infirmary to clean him up and have the nurse’s check to see if he needed stitches. When they entered the room there was only one nurse on staff, Maggie, she was older and very kind. She looked shocked and sympathetic to see Dean in such a horrible condition. Bobby laid him down on the examination table and took a few steps back to give them some room.

She pressed her hand against Dean’s cheek and whispered, “Don’t worry Mr. Winchester, we’ll have you fixed up good as new in just a few minutes.” Maggie, unlike many of the other medical staff, didn’t treat Dean like he was some kind of lunatic. She genuinely wanted to help and made all of the patients feel like they were her equals. She saw the way other people treated them, which was why she didn’t have many friends on staff, except for Bobby. She often told the other nurses off for being so condescending. “Everybody’s got their demons,” she would say, “some people just have a little more trouble dealing with them than others, and there ain’t no shame in asking for help.”

Maggie pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, gauze pads, and bandages and sat them next to Dean. She popped the cap off of the bottle and began to squirt some of the alcohol on the pads. 

“This is going to sting like hell, honey, just try to stay still.” Dean didn’t respond until she pressed the soaked pad onto his cheekbone. His body jolted and he hissed through his teeth.

Bobby moved to the other side of the table and rested his hand on Dean’s leg, reassuring him that everything was okay. Maggie proceeded to dab the blood from Dean’s cheek that had run down his jaw and neck. There was so much blood that it was difficult to tell exactly where it was all coming from until most of it was already wiped up. None of them were terribly deep, but they would definitely leave some scars. As Maggie wiped the gauze across Dean’s naked chest, a shape was revealed just beneath his left collarbone. This was the deepest of the cuts, Underneath the thick layer of blood there was what looked like a star inside of a sun.

“Damn, that is gonna scar like a son of a bitch,” Bobby said under his breath.  
When Maggie finished cleaning Dean’s skin she rubbed an antibiotic ointment across each wound and wrapped them in bandages.

“Let’s move him to the bed, he can stay here for the night.” Maggie said.

She and Bobby lifted him up and laid him down on the hospital bed that was much more comfortable than the one in his own room, he considered hurting himself more often just so he could sleep here instead.

Down the hall, Bobby heard shouting and scuffling. Bobby exhaled and turned to leave. 

“It’s going to be a long night, Mags, He said before turning to Dean, “Get some rest, kid. I’ll see you in the morning, ya idgit.”

The scuffling in the hallway continued for some time after Bobby left. When whoever was fighting was finally subdued and silenced, Dean opened his eyes. He lifted his head and looked toward the hallway, two orderlies were dragged a young man into the room. 

“Mr. Novak again, I should have guessed.” Maggie said as she escorted the men to the only other bed in the room.

“Let us know when he wakes up again, he’s going back down to the padded cell for a bit.”

Maggie nodded and pulled the blankets up around the motionless body. As the men left the room Maggie shook her head and walked back to her desk.

“I’m sorry about this, Mr. Novak, you’d think they would have learned by now to leave you alone when you go on your late night walks.” He was dead asleep, but she kept talking to him anyway.

Dean lifted his head again and in a raspy voice he choked out, “Is he in here a lot?”

Maggie looked up at him and smiled sympathetically, “Quite a bit, yeah. They always try to force him back into his room, but he doesn’t like to cooped up in there. It stresses him out.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Dean asked.

“Get some rest, Dean. You can ask him that yourself tomorrow morning.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s eyes cracked open, burning as the air hit them. He blinked several times and rubbed them before he was able to see properly. Across the room, Cas sat up in his bed staring right back at him. 

“Morning,” Cas said in a raspy tone.

Dean nodded, as he lifted his blankets to assess the damage he’d done to his body the night before. His left eye as well as other areas on his body were pretty swollen from all of the gashes he carved into himself. He felt stinging sensations all over his body, they almost made him wish he hadn’t woken up.

“You do that a lot?” Cas said as he tilted his head

“Do what a lot?”

“Hurt yourself.”

“Not really...sometimes.” Dean looked down at his lap, ashamed of his answer.

“Me too.” 

Dean looked up and their eyes met, Cas wasn’t proud either, but at least they had something in common, even if it wasn’t something good.

“So...whaddaya in for? And don’t worry, I won’t look at you the way they do.” Dean asked.

“I uh...I’m an angel of the lord.” Cas said with a half smile, embarrassed.

“I see, well I hunt demons and monsters.” Dean laughed.

“It’s basically a whole grocery list of things that are wrong with me...But right now my biggest issues are psychotic ideation and anxiety. It’s gotten so bad that I developed narcolepsy.” Cas said, rubbing his thumb against the palm of his hand.

“I’m in the same boat, with the whole grocery list thing, I mean.” Dean said, trying to show some compassion for Cas’ situation.

“I’m Castiel Novak by the way, but you can call me Cas.”

“Dean Winchester.”

Cas slowly lifted himself off of the bed and inched over to Dean, extending his hand. Dean took Cas’ hand in his and shook it slowly.

“It’s nice to meet you Dean, although I’m sure it would have been better to meet you under different circumstances.”

He looked different up close, Dean thought, his eyes were so much more striking, you could really see a lifetime behind them. All of his features were so much more than what they appeared at first glance. People always write about how soulmates or whatever are these old souls that have been together for eternity and how they need to find each other and blah blah blah. But the point is, it was almost as if you could see an eternity written on Cas’ face. His mental condition was clearly wearing him down, but he was still beautiful despite it all.

“Mr. Novak, I see you’ve met the lovely Mr. Winchester.” Maggie interrupted.

“I have.” Castiel said without breaking eye contact or letting go of Dean’s hand.

Maggie raised her eyebrows, noticing that she had interrupted a somewhat personal if not incredibly strange moment between the two of them.

“Well, I’ve discussed the incident last night with your doctor and he said if you seemed to be doing well today that you wouldn’t have to spend any time in the padded room, so long as you stay on your best behavior and attend a session with him later,” she said.

Maggie’s mentioning of the padded room got Cas’ attention, his brows furrowed and he looked down, releasing Dean’s hand.

“I guess I should probably go take care of that then…” He said, disappointed.

He turned quickly and left the room without another word. Dean’s eyes followed him as he passed through the doorway, his hand still in the air. Maggie cleared her throat, grabbing Dean’s attention.

“Maybe once you get you both get your privileges back you can ask him to go out for a walk around the courtyard with you,” Maggie winked at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Don’t look so offended, honey. The look on your face all but spelled it out. He’s a handsome boy, and he’s a real sweetheart. I’m sure you both could benefit from the companionship.”

Funny how Dean’s feelings were completely obvious to a 50-something year old nurse, when Dean wasn’t even totally sure how he felt about him yet.

“What about the ‘no fraternization’ rule?” Dean smirked.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Maggie said, pulling her jacket and purse out from the locker beside her desk. She walked over to the bed and laid her hand on Dean’s cheek, “Don’t get yourself into anymore trouble please? At least not until my next shift.”

Dean touched her hand and smiled, he hadn’t been here long but Maggie and Bobby were definitely the closest things he had to parents. He hoped that he would be able to introduce them to Sam one day, and that he would be able to see them once he got out, but he knew the rules. The staff isn’t allowed to maintain contact with the patients after their release.

A young nurse entered the room, taking Maggie’s place. It was Ruby, she hated Dean’s guts. A few days after he was admitted to the hospital Dean had a very severe fit in which he accused her of being a demon and threw a glass of water on her shortly before attempting to exorcise her. He had pulled a lot of shit during his fits with a lot of different people during his time there, but she was the only one who hadn’t forgiven him. During her shifts if Dean loses it she insists on sedating him the hard way, pushing him into the walls or floors and jabbing him with needles.

“Good morning, Ruby,” Dean whimpered.

She ignored Dean’s greeting and immediately began going over his charts. She smirked as she flipped through the description of last night’s incident. She looked up at him with a vindictive smile on her face and just as she opened her mouth to speak Dean’s doctor entered the room.

“How are we feeling today, Mr. Winchester?” He asked

“I’ve been better doc, I’m still pretty sore. But mentally I’m in a much better place, I don’t really remember much.”

“Well why don’t you tell me what you do remember and we can start there.” He smiled sympathetically.

Dean lifted his bandaged hand to his forehead and rubbed it gently.

“I know I was having nightmares all night. The entire time it felt like those dreams where you are falling and suddenly hit the ground--but I kept having that ‘hitting the ground’ feeling over and over. Except that usually wakes people up, but I didn’t. And when I finally opened my eyes I was here with Maggie and Bobby, and that guy uhh...Cas,” Dean seemed almost reluctant to mention Cas, he thought the mere mention of his name might make it obvious what his feelings were toward him.

“Yes, Bobby filled me in on those blank areas, would you like me to tell you the rest, Dean?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, doc.”

“You cut yourself all over your body, with what appeared to be a small broken piece of metal. You drew all over your room in blood. Can you tell me where you got the metal from, Dean?”

“I don’t remember...I’m sorry,” Dean felt even greater shame than he had earlier that morning. Sure he had only been here for two months, but he had seen people come in on a Monday and leave two weeks later. So why was his case so complicated? Why couldn’t they just fix whatever was going wrong with him?

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, Dean. We’ll get a handle on this, you’ll see. Everyone heals at their own pace. We just have to keep working on it. Now, there was one wound in particular that I would like to see before I go, if you wouldn’t mind. Nurse Maggie said this one was relatively deep,” He said, gesturing to the left side of Dean’s chest.

Dean nodded and began to pull back the medical tape around the cut. He hissed as the adhesive yanked at his skin. Dean craned his neck to look down at it with wide eyes.

“Can you tell me what that symbol means?”

A tear began to well up in his eye and fell down onto his chest.

“It’s um...It’s an anti-possession symbol...but I don’t remember doing it, I swear,” Dean said as he wiped at his eye.

“It’s alright, Dean, don’t get yourself worked up...Because this one is a bit deeper we’re going to have to keep a close eye on it, we don’t want it to get infected, do we? And there most definitely will be a visible scar left behind, unfortunately.”

Dean pressed the bandage back over the wound and let his hand linger over it for a moment.

“I’ll be back later to check on you again Dean, we need to keep you here for a while so we can be sure that you’re stable, but I think you’ll be back out on the floor within a day or two,” Doctor Collins winked at Dean before gliding out of the room to meet with the other patients.

The rest of the day dragged on miserably and slowly. Ruby heckled Dean all day, making his time in the infirmary significantly worse than usual. She brought him food throughout the day but it was all shit, it was either freezing cold or it tasted of nothing at all, she spilled things on him repeatedly and always forgot the pie. It was no wonder Dean mistook her for a demon.

After his visits with numerous doctors and orderlies and other friendly patients throughout the day, his eyes began to flutter and droop. Ruby had already passed out in her chair and the radio wasn’t playing anything particularly stimulating. He blinked his eyes several times and jolted awake when his head dropped. The clock above the door was broken, but Dean was sure that it was late, he heard no noises coming from the hallway or the rec room. Slowly and painfully he pulled back the sheets that covered his legs and lifted himself off of the bed. The cold floor gave him a start as he settled on his feet. Quietly he walked out of the room, doing his best not to wake up Ruby. 

As Dean made his way toward the living room he heard classical music bouncing off of the walls in the hallway. He shuffled along the tiled floor until he came upon Castiel roaming around the room.

“Having yourself another late night walk?” Dean smiled.

Cas looked up at him and tilted his head, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“Yeah well I had restless legs. Mind if I join you?”

Castiel presented his arm for Dean to hold onto as the walked the halls.

“I was going to go have a look at the garden, if you’re interested,” Cas said.

“Garden?” Dean asked, he never recalled seeing a garden.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

They glided slowly along the floor, occasionally slowing down so Dean could regain any lost strength. They entered the women’s wing of their ward, it was just as quiet as their own, Dean was a little worried about them getting caught, but Cas looked fearless, eager even, to show Dean this mysterious garden.

At the end of the hall they came to a stop, Cas looked at Dean and smiled as he slowly reached to open the door to a patient’s room.

“Hey hey what’re you doing? We can’t just go into some woman’s room!” Dean said.

“Calm down, Dean. This is my friend Rosemary’s room, she’s about 70 years old and she can’t hear worth a damn.”

Cas held onto Dean’s hand and pulled him into the dark room, there was already a chair set up beside Rosemary’s bed ready for visitors, but nobody ever showed up. Cas turned on the light and sat down, Rosemary didn’t budge. 

“Welcome to the Garden of Eden,” Cas said, lighting up.

Dean’s eyes grew wide as he gazed in amazement at the walls that were completely covered in pictures of various flowers, shrubs and trees. 

“Sit!” Cas said as he gestured to his lap. Dean looked alarmed at the suggestion. 

He shook his head, “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Dean, I insist.” He stood up and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, pulling him over toward the chair, Dean nearly collapsed on top of him.

Dean adjusted to the strange situation quickly, he even put his arm around Cas’ shoulders. He turned his head and looked at Cas, who had the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen. Dean exhaled and shook his head.

“You know, Cas, I think this might be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I got here.”

“Yeah,” Cas said, “Well I can think of one thing equally if not more beautiful than this.” The incredibly corny line set off an accidental roar of laughter between the two not-so grown up men. When the sound of their laughter faded, a small voice perked up from the silence.

“I haven’t seen such a beautiful couple since my own mother and father,” It was Rosemary, although she was nearly stone deaf, she heard them laugh.

“How long have you two darlings been together?”

Cas looked down chuckled and looked down at the floor, unsure of how to respond.

“Oh a long long time. Can’t even really remember anymore it’s been so long,” Dean smiled and winked at Cas when he looked up at him, shocked.

“Oh that’s wonderful,” Rosemary said with a sincere smile on her face, “I’d like to hear about how you met, I’m a sucker for a good love story.”

“We’d be more than happy to share it with you Miss Rosemary,” Cas said, “And we apologize for waking you up so late, I just wanted to show Dean your beautiful garden.”

“It’s perfectly alright, angel, I’m always happy to see you, at any time of day.”

The boys improvised a love story to Rosemary until her eyes began to close and she had a smile on her face. They turned out the light and quietly stepped back out into the dim hallway. Once again they linked arms and walked in silence through the empty corridors.

“That was really nice, what you told her,” Cas said, “It isn’t too often that she gets good news.”

Dean just smiled, it felt nice to say. He didn’t have any experiences to draw from, he never had any serious romances. Every relationship he had was short lived and he never really knew how to be a romantic. The last five or six years he hadn’t been seeing anybody, just living vicariously through his brother’s relationships.

Dean and Cas shuffled slowly back to the infirmary where Ruby was still passed out in her chair. Cas helped Dean back into bed and he pulled the sheets up around him. Cas let his hand rest on Dean’s thigh for just a moment too long before Dean rested his own hand on top of it. Cas looked up into Dean’s eyes, they were hazy and beautiful and had something so electric about them and it was impossible to look away. Slowly Dean closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing Castiel on the lips. He didn’t respond immediately, he wasn’t completely sure how, but once he was able to acknowledge what was happening he lifted his hand up to Dean’s cheek and allowed himself to relax. 

Trying to be a gentleman, Cas pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on Dean’s, eyes still closed, and his hand still on his cheek.

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Winchester,” Cas couldn’t help but smile.

“You too, Mr. Novak. Thank you for showing me the Garden of Eden.”

Cas pecked Dean on the cheek lightly and made his way toward the door, he stopped and turned back for one last glance at the wounded man lying in the hospital bed.

“Same time tomorrow?” Castiel asked, with a hopeful look in his eye.

“Deal,” Dean said.

Castiel walked away with a huge smile spread across his face. Walking down the hallway he pressed his hands against his cheeks, amazed, while Dean merely fell back into his pillow, suddenly out of breath. He tried to seem cool and collected but was probably the craziest moment of his entire life, and he’d just made plans to do it all over again the next day--and hopefully every day after that.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas spent the remainder of the night sitting in an arm chair in the common room. He gazed out the windows at the moon, watching the shadows of the trees and bushes dance across the ground. Because of his narcolepsy, Cas tried to stay awake for as long as possible, it gave him a sense of control over his body. Sometimes he kept himself from sleeping for so long that he would begin to have incredible delusions. Some nights when he was confronted by the orderlies, he would tell them that angels didn’t need to sleep, and that he was keeping watch over everyone in the hospital. They rarely had to medicate him to get him back in his room. All they had to do was stress him out to a certain degree and he’d hit the floor just like that. Of course his doctor wasn’t aware of the orderlies preferred method of putting him to sleep, he’d never allow such a thing considering nobody could recover that way.

Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon Cas rose from the arm chair and made his way back to his room. 

He closed the door behind him and sat down and moved to the side of his bed where he lifted up the thin mattress. He pulled out a shard of mirror that he’d found on one of his night walks. He held it before him and gazed at his reflection. His eyes were starting to sink in slightly, and the circles beneath them had gone from a light purple to a bruised brownish purple. He clenched his eyes tight and placed the mirror back into its place beneath his mattress. He then pulled out a small folded piece of paper and a pencil that had been almost entirely used up. He unfolded the paper and began to write, using the light that was just barely coming through the window:

"My vessel is beginning to decay.  
I’m afraid there’s nothing more that can be done for me.  
I’ve tried to play by their rules and let them heal me but nothing has worked.  
I was trying for the sake of the people that I am here to protect.  
And now there’s Dean; I feel as though he may need my help more than anyone else.  
I haven’t known him long...but self loathing and pain just radiates off of him. I hope I can help."

Castiel ran his fingers over the words he had just written and refolded the paper with the pencil inside, returning it to its place beneath his mattress. A beam of light flashed through the window and into his eyes, shocking him back into the moment. He tried to remember his therapy sessions, all the things he had talked to his doctors about. They had all tried so hard to convince him that he was nothing more than a mere human being, and he desperately wanted to believe that he was normal--but somehow he always managed to get sucked back into his delusions. 

“My name...is Jimmy Novak. I’m---I’m Jimmy,” He said to himself.

A dull ache in his chest caused him to shudder and clutch the bedsheet. He clenched his eyes shut as a single tear managed to escape. He tried to pull himself back to reality, telling himself over and over that his name was Jimmy--not Castiel, and the pains in his chest only got sharper. He became short of breath and he felt pins and needles all over his body.

And before he knew it, everything was white. Like someone had splashed white paint over his eyes... In an attempt to acknowledge his own illness and alleviate it, he had caused himself an unbelievable amount of stress, and before he had a chance to stop it he’d already fallen back into his bed--shaking uncontrollably.

\---

Dean laid in bed picking at one of the many bandages on his arms. The adhesive tugged on his short hairs, causing him to wince. His wounds were still tender, but starting to scab over. He ran his fingers over the exposed flesh and allowed himself to accept his situation, to accept his illness, hoping that this would cater to his recovery. He tried to remind himself that he needed to take things one day at a time and not every day would be a walk in the park. In fact, there would probably be more days where he would have night terrors and try to hurt himself.

“Hey, Dean-o. How’s it goin?” Bobby entered the room with a smile on his face.

“Not too bad, actually. Therapy time?”

Bobby nodded and extended his arm to help Dean get out of bed. Slowly, Bobby guided Dean out into the hallway and down to his doctor’s office. Upon reaching the door, Bobby slowed down, draping an arm around Dean’s shoulder.

“Good luck in there, don’t spare any details about how you’ve been feeling, alright? Remember that he just wants to do everything he can to help you get better.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean smiled and shuffled inside, pushing the heavy door closed behind him.

He slowly made his way to the couch closest to the open window. The breeze greeted him before his doctor did. His eyebrows furrowed as he scribbled on the notepad before him. He exhaled before dropping his pen and removing his glasses from his face.

“Dean, you’re looking better than the last time we spoke.”

“Feeling a bit better as well, Doc.” 

“Mentally or physically?” He asked as he returned to his notepad, flipping the page to a clean sheet.

“uhh, both I guess. More mentally than physically though. My body is taking its sweet old time healing itself,” Dean said looking down at his remaining bandages.

“Well you know you did quite a number on yourself. Your wounds were significantly deeper than they were the first time you did this. And they covered a greater surface area as well. This would be the third episode you’ve had since you joined us, isn’t that right, Dean? Of course it’s only the second one where you’ve managed to hurt yourself--and we’re not counting the fights you were getting into. I’m going to recommend that we start doing weekly checks of your room, just to be sure there’s no contraband that can harm you. Is that alright?” He looked up at Dean.

“Yeah, of course it’s alright.” 

He observed Dean’s reaction to the question, waiting to see some look of offense or anger, but there was none.

“Have you been taking your medication regularly?”

“Yes,” He lied.

“Mhm....When you checked in you were having massive spells of depression and anxiety, night terrors, feelings of paranoia and depersonalization, and let’s not forget that you tend to indulge in your delusions....”

Dean bit his lip. Just when he was starting to feel a little bit more comfortable with himself and was trying to talk himself up, he had to hear about all of his problems all over again.

“Dean I think a lot of your problems are stemming from your incredibly low self esteem. Now not all of your problems can necessarily be attributed to this but definitely some. And it is clear that you have experienced a great deal of trauma in your life and that is something I would like to discuss today. And later on we’ll discuss a change in medication as it appears that you aren’t having any appreciable response to anything we’re giving you.”

“I uh...Okay.” 

The doctor tilted his head and squinted his eyes at Dean.

“When you walked in here you were standing up straight and looking somewhat confident. Now you’re slumped over in your seat, making yourself small. You want to tell me what that’s about?”

“It’s just a little bit discouraging to hear about all of the things that make you defective.”

“You’re not defective, Dean. Everyone has to recover from something, and you’re very fortunate that you don’t have to go through your recovery alone. Every staff member in this hospital, including me, is here for you. We are all going to work to get you through this. I can’t tell you when exactly, but I can tell you that one of these days you are going to check out of this hospital and you will be well on your way to a happy and healthy life. But you have to work just as hard as everyone else.”

Dean was silent, he closed his eyes and let the doctor’s words sink in.

“I know it’s taken us a while for us to get to this discussion, a lot longer than it should have, but tell me when these..demonic visions began?”

Dean scratched his head, “It’s uh, it’s hard to say really. They didn’t really start out as visions. They were more or less just feelings...and it didn’t start off as demons either. I felt cold spots and thought I saw objects moving around the house and heard strange noises. And I started reading about strange deaths throughout the country and I just started getting paranoid about them. I was overthinking everything and trying to make connections to the paranormal. And eventually I started thinking I was seeing people with black eyes, I smelled sulfur. And I...I heard them in my head. It was like they got inside of me. I saw those eyes when I looked in the mirror. I tried to protect myself, I was hanging up drawings of these symbols...to ward off whatever I was seeing and feeling. But it wasn’t enough so I carved things into the walls. And I started flipping out in my sleep, and carving things into my body. Nothing scarred...at least not until now.”

“I see, tell me about your night terrors. What kinds of things do you see?”

“It’s all red. I’m hanging from chains, bleeding everywhere. I’m screaming for my brother but he’s nowhere to be found. And then these demons just keep cutting me over and over again. And yet there’s always a fresh spot that they can cut. Some nights I would wake up perfectly fine and others I would wake up with bruises and cuts. Sometimes Sammy would hear me screaming and try to wake me up before I hurt myself. Anyways, that didn’t go on too long before Sam decided it would be best that I talk to someone about it.”

“And you were drinking heavily during this time?”

“Yeah. I started drinking after my dad died.”

“And do you have a family history of alcohol abuse and/or other illnesses?’

“My dad was a big drinker, but I can’t really say if there were any other illnesses in our family. I mean the Winchesters are pretty paranoid people in general, but that’s all.”

“I’d like to talk about your self esteem, Dean. How do you feel about yourself?”

Dean stammered, “I-I don’t know. I don’t feel any type of way about myself.”

“Come on Dean, you and I both know that isn’t true. Describe yourself to me in your own words.”

Dean didn’t respond. He looked away and felt his eyes stinging. He could talk about visions, the things he was hearing in his head, but he wasn’t comfortable talking about how he felt about himself. He didn’t like the person he’d become, and nobody had ever given him a reason to believe that he was a good person. His dad tormented him throughout the entirety of his youth, and yet he always did his best to impress him. But the only attention he ever got from him was the black and blue bruises that he left on Dean’s body. His father made him feel worthless, and that feeling stuck with him.

Dean’s doctor saw that he was uncomfortable and decided to end the session early. These were demons that they could break into next time.

“Thank you for your time today, Dean. You’re doing great. I’m going to talk to the nurses about upping your dosage of antidepressants and we’ll talk about switching you to something else for your anxiety. And if you’re feeling up to it you can sleep in your own room tonight instead of the infirmary, it’s all cleaned up. Just make sure you check in with whoever is working the infirmary to get your cuts cleaned up and your bandages changed later.”

“Thanks Doc. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean smiled and left the room quietly. He felt his face growing red with embarrassment. It was a comfort to be able to explain those things to someone without being judged, but he didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. But there was someone he didn’t mind being vulnerable around, Cas. After having a downer of a morning, he didn’t particularly want to see anybody else. He just wanted to see those dazzling eyes and that big smile. So far, it had made him feel better than any therapy session.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been like a decade since I updated this but I am excited to report that new chapters are on the way! Enjoy! And as always, feedback is appreciated.

Dean slowly made his way back to his room, fearful of what he might see. When he opened the door an almost overwhelming gust of cleanser scented air burst out at him. The shock of it all made Dean sneeze multiple times, nearly causing him to lose his balance. From down the hall Dean heard a faint, “bless you!” and nothing more. He entered the room slowly, examining the walls for any left behind damage. The custodial staff was top notch, there was not a stain left in sight---unfortunately there were some very minor gashes left in the walls but nothing that would put this room out of use. Looking back on his conversation with Dr. Collins, Dean decided it would be best to get rid of the excess of pills he had shoved in his mattress; one never knew where the orderlies would search, so everything had to go. 

Dean lowered himself beside his mattress and wedged his finger inside of the slit so he could pull more pills out at once. He scooped them out four or five at a time and placed them on top of the bed, only dropping a few. When all was said and done Dean had between eighty and ninety pills...varying antidepressants, anti anxieties, antipsychotics, sleep aids, you name it. These could score him some pretty decent cash, but he wasn’t so sure he could get away with selling them off fast enough---and he never knew who would have money on them and who could only offer a trade. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of carrying around 80-something pills in his underwear and he sure as hell couldn’t risk leaving any of them behind for a while. 

Flushing them down the toilet felt wrong to him...these medicines hadn’t helped him, but maybe they would help someone else...Someone else who was afraid to ask for them? He knew how these pills had affected him, and he didn’t like it; and he knew that he had to go through the trial and error process over and over before he found what was right for him---but he didn’t want to deal with any of it in the meantime. He knew he was hurting himself, he knew what he was doing wasn’t helping him at all and that medication would be the right tool to help him get through whatever was plaguing him...but still he fought it. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel he was worth the recovery. Maybe he felt like other people deserved recovery more than him.

Dean closed his eyes tight and clenched his jaw; thoughts like this filled his head constantly. It would start off as something logical, a simple problem: how to get rid of a stash of pills. And then it would turn into an endless cycle of self loathing and anger. Dean fished through the pile of pills and retrieved two valium---he stopped taking them because of the drowsiness, but they sure as shit did their job in the anxiety-relief department. He dry swallowed the pills and then began stuffing some down in his socks---which soon became bulky with capsules. He pulled his pant leg down over the bulging socks and paced around his room to see how unnatural his walk looked and if he would lose any pills on the journey. Considering he was still weak and shuffling from his incident the day before, Dean felt that nobody would get too curious about the way he was walking.

With both socks full of pills, Dean exited out into the hallway, heading toward the rec room. He started with the few people that he regularly gave pills to---Anna, who wasn’t given anti-anxieties because when she was admitted she was heavily addicted to xanax---he would only give her a few at a time, enough to help her but not enough to hurt her, in his opinion anyway; Marshall, who only exchanged his pills for ones he felt were stronger; and Elliot, who would take them to trade for cigarettes. He slipped them their pills and sat in front of the rec room television to think of his other options. There were orderlies who would take them as bribes but Dean didn’t want to risk trying the wrong ones. He wasn’t sure who else he could offer his pills too, and frankly he was too scared to try. The hospital wasn’t too terribly harsh with their punishments, but this was a crime that could possibly get him removed from the hospital, which he did not want. He knew he needed to be here; he knew he needed their help even if he sometimes resented them for it.

With a sock and a half still full of pills, Dean tried to think of a back up plan. In a short moment of panic, he rose from the couch and began to shuffle out of the rec room and down the hall towards the infirmary. The nurse on duty was named Meg, she was really sarcastic and a little bit bitchy, which was fun for Dean to try and keep up with. He inched through the archway slowly and tapped on the doorframe to get her attention. She slowly turned in her chair and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh hello handsome, what can I do for you?” She smirked, she knew she wasn’t allowed to talk to patients that way but she didn’t give a damn.

Dean smirked back, “I was just wondering if you could tell me which room Cas is staying in? I need someone new to kick my ass at ping pong.” He was disturbed by how easily he was able to lie to people in here and not think twice about it.

“Ahhh you mean my darling Clarence. He’s one of my favorites, Winchester, so don’t go thinking you can steal him away from me with your charm,” she said with a wink.

He was almost shocked by her proposal, but he did his best not to show it---she often joked with him this way with him and he didn’t want to reveal his true feelings to her. Not that it was a big deal for someone to know that he was attracted to a guy...he hadn’t really talked about it with anyone before...he just didn’t want to risk either of them being moved to another ward. Meg pointed him in the right direction and patted him on the butt before sending him on his way, he chuckled and pretended to rub his behind in pain as he left the infirmary.

“You know I could have your job for that!” He joked.

“Yeah but you and I both know that I’m your favorite nurse and you couldn’t hack it here without me!” She smiled and returned to her desk.

Dean knew what she said was true, though. Without the relationships he’d made in the ward he’d probably be doing way worse than he was, so for a moment he felt thankful that he met the people that he did. Upon arriving to Cas’ room, he thought about what he was going to say: Hi Cas! Mind if I stash some drugs in your room for a little while? He laughed to himself and rubbed his forehead as he began to feel the valiums kick in. He exhaled slowly and tapped on the door lightly. When there was no answer, he knocked again but a little bit louder. Under any other circumstances, he probably would have left and tried again later, but he didn’t have the time. He gripped the door handle and twisted it while tapping the door with his other hand.

“...Cas? You here?” He said carefully.

He poked his head in and saw Cas sprawled out across the thin mattress, hair tousled about his head. As he entered he closed the door quietly behind him and approached the bed. For a moment he watched Cas sleep, admiring the awkward way half of his body dangled over the side of the mattress and the way he buried his face in his pillow but was still able to breathe---amazing. He smiled before placing his hand on his shoulder and shaking him rapidly.

“CAS!” He yelled, causing him to leap up from his slumber and fly back into the wall.

“Jesus, Dean. You scared me half to death, what are you doing here?”

He felt bad having woken Cas up, and seeing those innocent blue eyes peering up at him made him feel just as bad about asking him to hide drugs for him---especially since he had the feeling that Cas wouldn’t hesitate to do something like this for him. So he decided not to put this on him.

“Honestly, I had a favor to ask...but I sorted it all out myself. I guess I just wanted to see you.” He said.

A large smile spread across Cas’ face as he squinted and wiped the “sleep sand” from the inner corners of his eyes.

“You know you’re looking abnormally chipper for someone who was just forced awake by an obnoxious mental hospital patient,” Dean laughed.

“Well when you wake up to a sight as beautiful as this it’s kind of hard not to be excited.” Cas smiled.

Dean felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment, he was trying to be cute but when Cas reciprocated it was almost too much for him. Nobody ever said things like that to him, and it sort of conflicted with the feelings he had about himself---he was unsure how to respond. He laughed, almost uncomfortably, and looked down at the floor, sporadically looking up to make brief eye contact with Cas. Cas noticed the change and rose from the bed, moving closer to Dean, forcing him to make eye contact. Dean took one small step back by force of habit---when people suddenly approached him this way he it triggered his fight or flight responses. Cas, fully aware of this development, slowly reached out one hand to touch Dean’s, and interlock their fingers. With his other hand, he lifted his chin, looking deep into his eyes.

“You know that, right? How beautiful you are?’ Cas’ eyes moved from Dean’s to his lips, and back to his eyes again.

“I...uh...I dunno..” Dean awkwardly chuckled and blushed so hard that he knew his face was turning beet red. But with the help of the valium, he did his best to calm down.

“You should...The moment I woke up to you in the infirmary I was just...I never believed that I would see someone so beautiful in a place filled with so much pain.” 

Dean didn’t realize that he was squeezing Cas’ hand as tightly as he was, but the moment he became aware he eased his grip. 

“I know you’re ill, Dean. So am I...I won’t try to romanticize that. But I think...we could both use someone who isn’t on the medical staff to talk to. Someone to trust and someone to-”

Dean interrupted Cas with a kiss, he felt it was the only way to relieve the remaining anxiety radiating his chest. He appreciated what Cas was saying, and agreed completely, but he needed to be honest about his feelings, and words weren’t exactly on his side right now. Cas rested his palm on Dean’s cheek, feeling stubble and gauze bandages covering his tender skin. He squeezed his other hand tightly around Dean’s before releasing it and placing his hand on Dean’s hip. Cas pushed his tongue into Dean’s mouth, meeting the soft wet flesh, smiling inside at the sweet taste that Dean’s mouth offered. The taste was comforting and almost familiar to him, he welcomed it. Dean ran his fingers through Cas’ messy hair and ran one hand down his chest slid around to rest on the small of his back. 

A loud knock at the door forced Cas and Dean apart, bringing them back into the moment. Cas, wide eyed, opened the door to Bobby, who poked his head in and waved. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but Meg said that Dean-o might be here. You have a phone call, buddy.” He smiled and backed out of the doorway, appearing not to have noticed anything unusual about the situation.

Cas cleared his throat, “I guess you better get outta here then. I’ll see you later on?”

Dean smiled pecked Cas on the cheek like a giddy child, “Definitely”.


End file.
